I thanked him for the kindness he had shown in this, to one so utterly unknown as I was to him; but he stayed me with a smile, saying that in this or any other matter I could command him, as the friend of Le Brusquet, and went on to pay me a handsome compliment in regard to the affair of the previous night.
"An affair that is like to place me on the road to Montfauçon," I said a little bitterly.
"On the contrary," replied De Lorgnac, "rather, perhaps, on the road to better things."
"Hearken not unto him!" said Le Brusquet; "he is for ever looking out for recruits for his guard. Blaise de Lorgnac is as insatiable a stirrer of the porridge of the times as I; only I use a longer ladle, as beseems a person of my wisdom. As for you, mon ami Blaise,—you throw your lures in vain! Know you that Monsieur Broussel is a philosopher, who has found contentment in—fifty écus a year, did you not say, monsieur?" And, reaching for his lute, he ran his fingers over the strings and began to sing:
"Mes amis, la terre est à moi.
J'ai de quoi
Vivre en roi
Si l'éclat me tente.
Les honneurs me sont devolus
J'ai cinquante écus,
J'ai cinquante écus,
J'ai cinquante écus de."
"Mille tonnerres! Stop! Do you want to bring half the Louvre here to listen?" And De Lorgnac placed his hand over the singer's mouth, and took the lute from him.
"Enough!" said Le Brusquet; "you have banished the inspiration. I sing no more. And as for you, Monsieur Blaise, take yourself off with that long sword of yours. It frightens the ape, and I have that to say which is for M. Broussel's ear alone."
"Au revoir!" said Lorgnac, but as he reached the door he turned to me.
"Your Pierrebon is safe and sound in the Rue Tire Boudin. He has received orders not to stir forth. In the matter of the horses—you must let that be my care." And without waiting for reply he went away.
"I know not how to thank M. de Lorgnac or you——" I began, but Le
Brusquet cut in: